The Doppelganger Effect
by Moonlite Knight
Summary: Alex Rider has been framed. He is not an internationally famous, ruthless thief. Fortunately, Blunt believes him. Unfortunately, his idea of dealing with the situation involves bringing in a certain SAS unit to track Alex’s every move...er... protect him.
1. A Thief in the Night

_Disclaimer: It is impossible to own Alex Rider if you did not think him up. I didn't, so I don't. _

**The Doppelganger Effect**

Chapter 1: A Thief in the Night

Moonlight glistened through the window, blessing the room with an almost mystical radiance. Several works of art got in the way of the shine, leaving shadows that appeared to dance on the museum's walls. It was silent. It was peaceful. It was a perfect night for a robbery.

The dark figure dropped silently onto the floor from the hole he had made in the ceiling, and let go of the rope that had aided him with his decent. The intruder was dressed entirely in black, complete with an ink-black mask covering the lower half of his face and a black woolen hat which hid his hair from view. Only his eyes were visible, gleaming an intense sapphire blue, as he strode confidently across the room and to his goal. He had no need to be overly cautious; he could self-assuredly say that he knew the architecture of the building better than even its builders. He knew precisely where every trip wire, every security alarm, every hidden camera lay and exactly how to avoid them. Nothing could stand between him and his goal tonight.

The intruder halted when he was roughly twenty feet from the encased jewel, his target for the night. The jewel was quite a beauty, the size of a baby's fist with a wondrous amethyst coloring. "The Devil's Fire" it was called, discovered in a blood mine in an underprivileged region of Africa. Countless innocents had been slain over this jewel, until the African government had appropriated it and lent it to the British in return for military aid in one of their constant civil wars.

The thief, however, cared nothing about that. He cared about little other than getting that jewel from behind that bullet proof, six inch thick glass case and into his hand. That was what his employers had called him in for.

_But,_ he thought, pointing a finger at the case, _they really are making this easy for me._

He made a strange motion with his thumb, similar to that of pulling a trigger and a small dart flew out of his pointed finger directly at the case, shattering it into hundreds of tiny pieces and instantly setting off over a dozen alarms. He smirked under his mask and blew on the tip of his finger, blowing away the imaginary smoke.

_That_ _ought_ _to_ _get_ _their_ _attention_, he thought with satisfaction, surveying the flashing light and blaring alarms. _They better not be late. After all, today I shall be revealing my 'identity'._

After four months of perfect, ingenious heists, his employers had ordered him to let the public see his face. Who was he to argue, especially when it would bring him one step closer to getting what he really wanted.

_Besides, it would be rude of me to keep such a lovely face hidden from the world,_ he told himself, smirking as he plucked the jewel from amidst of the wreckage.

The thumping of dozens of boot-clad feet alerted him to the arrival of his audience. His smirk widened. Seconds later, the ornately designed doors were thrown wide open and swarms of heavily armed men stormed into the room, surrounding him in mere seconds. The thief stood and watched, greatly amused by the commotion around him. They wouldn't dare shoot; he knew he was wanted alive. Dead, he would be of no use, and they would never learn who he worked for. They wouldn't learn who he worked for if he was apprehended alive, either, but they didn't know that.

One soldier, apparently the leader, judging by the extra stripe on his jersey and the arrogance in his voice, took it upon himself to try and reason with the thief. Apparently he was not aware that thieves could not be reasoned with.

"Give us the jewel and you won't get hurt." The solider ordered boldly, his gun trained on his target.

How pathetically amusing, the solider actually thought he was in control of the situation. The thief responded by throwing the jewel lightly into the air and then catching it with his other hand, feeling a surge of pleasure at the way the entire squad flinched. Nice to know that even they were familiar with his reputation. But, now that his entire audience was here, it was best to not disappoint them. What kind of thief would he be if he did that?

Dismissing the dozens of guns trained and locked on his entire being, the thief merely raised his right hand and flicked it backwards, giving permission for all hell to break loose. And break loose it did, with a grand party to celebrate its momentous release.

Many of the soldiers were dead before they even realized it, ripped apart by the thousands of miniature blades of the sharpest steel, specially designed to explode with the force of half a grenade three seconds after contact.

The sight of the blood sent his heart in to a crazed frenzy and it took him all his will power and the memory of the pain his employers inflicted if he failed, to keep him from jumping into the chaos, to spill more. The surviving soldiers had no trouble restraining themselves though. They disregarded their fallen comrades with a cold-heartedness born from losing too many loved ones and sent rain upon rain of bullets at the thief.

He dodged most of them as he dashed back towards the rope hanging from the hole in the ceiling, though a few found their mark, driving deep into his back, an arm, and a shoulder. He ignored the burning pain, knowing it would be gone within the hour. Already, he could feel the wounds closing up.

"Stop him!" a voice roared as the thief began to scale the rope using his own momentum to swing out of the way of the continuous stream of bullets.

He recognized it instantly as the soldier who had tried to bargain with him, quite horribly, he might add. So, he was still alive. He'd have to fix that.

In one swift motion, and a sacrifice of the other shoulder to a bullet, the thief reached into the inside of his boot and pulled out a dagger which was then sent sailing through the air and right into the ribs of the poor general.

He allowed himself a second's worth of gloating at the thought that he had responsible taking away the life of that human before reprimanding himself. _That was petty, stick to the plan_.

He wiggled his right foot, allowing the boot covering it to loosen and fall onto the ground. Instantly, it released a stream of pale pink gas. Knock out gas. Wallowing in their pathetic, frantic shouts, the thief scaled the rest of the rope, pausing briefly at the top. With a blood-covered hand, he discarded his hat and ripped off his mask, his fingers leaving streaks of blood from just under his right eye to his chin, giving him a demonic look. Then he turned and grinned maliciously right into the security camera behind him.

*~~ͽͼ~~*

The image froze instantly as Alan Blunt's thumb slammed into the pause button on his remote. He calmly surveyed the screen, his eyes cold and uncaring. Hidden from the world were the emotions which currently consisted of a mix of shock, disbelief, and a dash of horror. A teaspoon of fear had been present too, but it was quickly smothered by pride.

"Sir", whispered Mrs. Jones, her eyes darting between the cruel face on the screen and her boss's calm, calculating one. Her harsh breathing and iron clad hold on the arms of her chain betrayed her feelings. "That was…it wasn't…I mean…It can't be—"

"It is," he stated, not once turning away from the face of the being responsible for the deaths of countless numbers of his men over the past four months. Thirty-seven more had been added to the count just hours before. The face was surprisingly young but it contained the half crazed gleam that was normally found in serial killers in his eyes. His grin was almost mocking as Blunt finally diverted his eyes and turned towards Mrs. Jones.

He pressed another button on his remote control, replacing the image with that of a sleeping fourteen year old boy.

"Or perhaps it isn't…"

Another click and the face was back, its grin even more mocking than before.

"…Alex Rider."

*~~ͽͼ~~*

Several blocks away, a reluctant teenage spy snored peacefully; unaware of the turn his life would be taking within the next twenty four hours.

Ignorance is bliss, while it lasts that is.

*~~ͽͼ~~*

_**Note1: I am not a professional thief, so the thief's plan probably had a million flaws in it. Please excuse that fact due to my inexperience in the art of thievery.**_

_**Note 2: I made the "**_**The Devil's Fire"**_** up, it doesn't really exist.**_


	2. Daylight Livings

_Disclaimer: Too miserable to make up a witty disclaimer, so I shall simply say this once: I do not own Alex Rider. *sob*_

Chapter 2: Daylight Livings 

"Alex!" shouted an irate Jack Starbright at the ceiling of the kitchen. "Get down here right this instant!"

Silence met her yell as she placed a plate of mango pancakes onto the dining table. She frowned heavily as she glanced at the door and shouted once again. Of all days to oversleep, Alex just had to choose a school day, didn't he?

"You're going to be late!" She cautioned, knowing that would get him moving. Sure enough, she heard a faint yelp, followed by loud thuds as he frantically got ready. Since Alex missed months of class while on missions, every chance that he had to go to school, he grabbed it and refused to let go. He had even once attempted to attend class with a one hundred and one degree fever.

_Yeah, that sure had been fun to talk him out of, _she recalled, pouring herself a cup of orange juice.

"Alex! If you're not down here within the next ten seconds, you don't even want to know what I'll do to you!" She yelled one last time, before taking a sip of her juice.

She heard another muffled shout, followed by a _thud, thud, thud, BAM, _as Alex Rider flew down the stairs, probably taking them five at a time as he had a habit of doing no matter how many times she told him to be careful, and charged into the room.

"I'm here!" he gasped out, collapsing into his chair. "Don't blow a gasket, Jack."

Jack raised an eyebrow at him, not even bothering to hide the grin on her face. Her ward looked perfectly adorable, his hair a wild mess, face flushed from his frantic dash to get dressed.

_I wonder if he realizes that he's wearing his school shirt with his pajama pants, _she thought, amused as she elegantly took another sip of her drink. _Should I tell him…nah. _

"In America," she teased, in a mock snotty voice, placing her cup down. "We believe in a thing called 'punctuality'."

"Well, in England," he shot back in the same tone of voice. "We believe in taking our time and enjoying the scenery."

She laughed and they both began their meals, though Alex did stare questioningly at the mango pancakes for a moment, before shrugging and digging in. He'd eaten much stranger things before, when Jack got the desire to be creative with her meals.

"So," Jack began, spearing her pancakes with her fork. "Why so tired?"

Alex kept his eyes fixed on his pancakes when he answered, shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly. "Long night."

Translation: he had been awoken at some point in the night by a nightmare and had probably not managed to fall asleep again until the sun had come up. The way he was favoring his left side left little need to ask what the nightmare had been about.

Jack carefully hid her worry and sadness at the fact that he had sat all alone in his room after the nightmare instead of waking her. She knew that Alex felt that she did enough for him already, staying and taking care of him when she the chance go back home to America and forget all about the world most people had the good fortune to be entirely unaware of. Openly worrying about him would only make it worse for him. Alex took it upon himself to be responsible for everything, and the child already had too much responsibility on his shoulders already.

"No more staying up watching late night shows for you, mister," she lightly scolded him.

Alex shot her a grateful look, relieved that she hadn't pressed for answers. Ignoring the way her heart ached at the way Alex kept everything locked up inside of him, hiding away his fears so that he wouldn't have to think about then until absolutely necessary, she took a bite of her pancake.

Jack viewed Alex as her little brother, no matter the fact that they were not related by blood and were different in just about every way possible. She wanted to help him, but she couldn't if he refused to acknowledge his worries and fears. Her hands were tied in the whole spying issue, but the least she could do was keep things as normal as possible for him at home, and always be there for him whenever possible. And she intended to do just that, no matter what those busybodies at the bank said.

Of course, if she even dared to mention any of that a fourteen year old boy, he'd probably run in the opposite direction as fast as possible. Teenage boys were not renowned for being fond of talking about 'mushy' things, like feelings and junk.

A light snore reached her ears, distracting her from her thoughts and pancakes. She looked up to see that Alex had managed to nod off to sleep sitting up at the table. She frowned, worry springing up with a renewed force. He had never done that before. Usually, he was worryingly adept at concealing his weariness from others, particularly her.

That must have been some nightmare he had,she realized, biting her lower lip as she absently stabbed her pancakes with a fork. Should she let him sleep and cut school? He'd bite her head off about it later if she did though. She took a bite of her pancake and chewed it thoughtfully. At school, Alex would have other people to keep him busy. She wouldn't be home all day, and he'd have to spend most of the time alone if she let him skip. 

Reaching a decision, Jack picked up a piece of toast that had been over toasted while she had been distracted with waking Alex up, aimed, and threw it right at his forehead. He jerked awake with a start.

"Wha—Jack"! He complained while rubbing the mark the toast had left on his forehead. "That was uncalled for!"

"You have ten minutes to get to school," she said in response, calmly taking a bite of her pancake. She watched, amused as his eyes widened almost comically. After quickly stuffing a few bites of pancake into his mouth, he abandoned his half eaten breakfast, and raced for the door, grabbing his backpack which was lying by the entrance.

"Bhay Jach!" He managed to say through his mouthful of mango and cooked flour.

"Alex! Wait a second!" she called, setting down her fork.

He froze with one foot out the door, and turned towards her impatiently.

"You sure you want to go to school like that?" she asked, grinning widely.

His brow wrinkled in confusion, and he looked down at himself. It was only then that he realized exactly what he was wearing. Face flushing, he dropped the bag unceremoniously onto the floor and raced up the stairs to his room, Jack's laughter still ringing in his ears.

*~~ͽͼ~~*

"Bye, Jack!" Alex yelled a few minutes later as he ran out the front door, this time in full uniform; he even remembered to snatch his backpack on his way out. Thirty seconds later, he was on his bike and halfway down the block. If he managed to continue at this speed he would be make it to school with about five minutes to spare. Give or take a minute.

The wind tugged gently at his blue and gray uniform as he pedaled, enjoying the feel of it ruffling through his hair, the warmth of the rare sunshine on his skin, and, most of all, the fact that there was no crazed terrorist, assassin, or anyone else who wanted him dead after him. He rounded a corner sharply, smiling slightly as an overcautious driver honked in warning. It was wonderful to know that he did not have to be constantly on guard, viewing everyone with suspicious eyes, attempting to read the second meaning of their every move.

For a brief moment, Alex truly felt like the carefree schoolboy that he would have been if circumstances had been different. He felt utterly free. He felt as though he had complete control over his life. He felt as though he was heading straight down a fifty foot hill on a bike whose brakes had failed about a quarter of the way down, right into the waiting hands of ravenous wolves.

In short, the spy half of Alex was downright apprehensive of the beautiful, almost normal day even as he raced down the street towards school. It was on days like this that something that completely turned his 'normal' lifestyle upside down occurred, and more often than not, that something involved certain employees in a certain Bank. People whom he simply wanted to stay far, far away from and vice versa.

He turned off the King's road and continued pedaling down the side road at an almost dangerously fast rate. Twenty to twenty five miles an hour, if he had to estimate. A new record on this bike, though he had gone faster when his life was being threatened.

_Don't think about that,_ he told himself sternly, pushing the dark memories to the furthest corner of his mind. He did not need those thoughts messing up his morning, especially not when he was so close to school.

The puckered skin on his chest, just above his heart gave a sharp twinge of pain. He screeched to a halt right in front of the entrance to his school, his body tense. He ignored the whispers his fellow school mates who had witnessed his sudden stop and braced himself for the onslaught of pain which he was sure would come.

It didn't. A moment passed before he slowly relaxed and started to feel a bit self-conscious about what he had just done. The wound had healed cleanly; there would be no complications the doctor had assured him. Aside from a few twinges of pain that Alex was sure would never fully vanish, he was fine. But each time the scar throbbed, he could not help but tense, expecting to feel the burning pain, to feel the blood flowing out of him, to see everything fade slowly to black. Having relived the entire incident the previous night in his dreams was not helping either.

It was foolish to dwell over it, the incident had been weeks ago. He had been shot, almost died, and would most likely be put in many more similar situations if Blunt had his way in the future. But he had survived that and planned on continuing to do so, and that was what mattered. So, he had to move on and keep walking forward.

But it was hard, Alex admitted as he walked his bike into the school, letting the harsh, childish taunts loudly whispered his way wash over him. It's not easy to forget that you looked death in the eye and lived to tell the tale. Though if Alex told anyone here his tale, they would most definitely not believe him, and he couldn't really blame them. His life was more like a cheap fast-paced spy movie than he really liked at times.

"Hey, Rider," a tall, burly boy that he vaguely recalled from his French called from amidst his large group of friends. "Did you overdose this morning or what?" His clique laughed loudly as though it was the most intelligent thing he had every said.

_And judging by how he performed during the oral exam last week,_ Alex thought warily to himself as his secured his bike to the rack. _It probably was. _

"Alex!" a welcomingly familiar voice said from behind him. "You made it! And on time too!"

"I'm never late, Tom," Alex said, turning around to face his grinning friend. A small smile made its way on his face. His best friend was always cheerful and carefree, an ordinary schoolboy, and the only one in the school to know Alex's secret and accept him regardless. "Should I remind you exactly who is on Miss Bernie's List of Misbehavior because of tardiness?"

"She puts you on that list if you so much as _breathe_ out of turn," Tom Harris said, waving a hand dismissively. He made sure to ignore the boy that had asked Alex if he had overdosed as pointedly and insultingly as possible. The boy scowled and turned his attention towards the gates for another victim, hopefully one that would fight back so that he could have an excuse to trash him. "Besides, exactly who has their name permanently engraved on the very top of that list for more absences than anyone else in the class?"

"She hates me," Alex declared as they made their way across the courtyard. He ran a hand through his hair to smooth it down before its wind ruffled appearance caught the eye of a teacher. "Must be my good looks."

His friend snorted. "Of course, and I'm the queen's nephew's favorite dog's beautician."

"A pleasure to make your acquaintance, your Royal Canine Beautician" Alex said with a mock bow, stepping to the left to avoid the textbook aimed at his head. "Watch the hair."

"Vain," Tom shot back, opting to punch Alex lightly on the arm since the book had failed. "And there's no such position."

"Am not, and you're the one who mentioned it." Alex retorted, grinning, and falling into his schoolboy role.

"Only because you decided to become vain." Tom replied, shooting a glare at an underclassman that looked as though he was trying to gather the courage to come towards them. Probably another stupid dare to go and talk to drug addict slash gangster slash maniac Alex Rider.

"I never decided that." Alex replied, grinning at the underclassman. It was not a friendly grin.

"You shouldn't have done that." Tom said quietly as they watched the poor boy trip over himself in his haste to get away. "They'll be even more rumors about you circling about by lunch."

Alex shrugged, unconcerned. New rumors would pop up anyway, whether he did anything or not. "He was staring."

Tom rolled his eyes. "So mature."

"That's me."

Alex laughed at Tom's exasperated but amused groan as they headed inside Building C and started towards their homeroom. All dark thoughts about M16 and his nightmare were firmly locked away in the back of his mind. Right now, he was just a schoolboy, joking happily with his best friend, not an indisposed spy. And he was just fine if things stayed like that for a long, long time.

If either of them had thought to glance behind them, they would have seen a tan Skoda pull away from its strategic position directly across the street in front of the school, where it had spent the last thirty minutes observing the students, searching for one fair haired boy. But they didn't, and neither did anyone else who would have been even remotely aware of the car's significance.

*~~ͽͼ~~*

He grinned to himself as the car speed away from the humdrum West London School. It had been…interesting to see the place again. It had recovered well from the fire; one could not even tell that the school had ever been burned. There was absolutely no damage, no scars…

The cell phone that he had been clutching in his left hand shattered into a dozen twisted pieces as his grip became too tight. He unclenched his hand and let the useless bits of plastic fall carelessly onto the floor of the car.

The driver, having witnessed the display of inhuman strength, gave an audible gulp and began to desperately wish that he had listened to his mother and gone to college. The thief ignored the driver, a useless human of no concern. He was more focused on the memories of the boy that he had just spent the last five minutes avidly watching.

Alex Rider.

The boy hadn't changed a bit. No, scratch that. Physically, he was still a disgustingly young boy, but mentally he had undergone much change. The boy had seen death, and had probably killed too. There was no doubt about that, just one look at the boy's too old, weary eyes had told him that much. The boy was no longer an innocent schoolboy; he was now a broken spy. The demonic grin reappeared on his face.

_Good, _he thought savagely, raising his left hand up in front of his face so that it caught the weak sunlight, giving it the faint impression of being lit on fire. _Alex has no right to be perfect and whole when he destroyed me. _

His contact induced blue eyes glittered eerily as a deep chuckle escaped from his throat, frightening the poor driver further.

He would enjoy tearing apart Alex Rider's life and watching him slowly break before killing him, nicely and leisurely, drawing out each moment, so that the boy felt as much pain as he had when he was being burned alive. He clenched his hand abruptly into a tight fist, his nails digging into the annoyingly frail skin. He watched the small threads of blood slowly make its way down his arm. He imagined it was Alex's blood and laughed viciously. Oh, he would enjoy this very much indeed.

Alex Rider was going to die, and the last face he would ever see before going willingly into death's embrace would be his very own.

*~~ͽͼ~~*


	3. Essential Gossip

_Disclaimer: If I owned Alex Rider, the clone would have come back right after Point Blank ended, and the whole thing would be so ridiculously cliché that you all would probably hate my guts for it :P _

Chapter 3 Essential Gossip

_What a wonderful day,_ Alex thought, morosely as he sat alone at his desk, his head resting in his arms on his desk. His head was aching from lack of sleep, his temper was short from weariness, and the fact that there was a noticeable absence of any students sitting any closer than two desks away from him was not helping matters one bit. _What a wonderful, amazing, perfect, great day. _

Upon entering homeroom some five minutes earlier, Tom had been immediately stolen away by a few of their classmates who wanted to discuss some major event that had happened in the news. Alex didn't know or really care what event as the boys had made it quite clear that they only wanted to talk to Tom. For his part, Tom had been hesitant to leave Alex alone and had done his best to include Alex in the conversation. But due to lack of cooperation on both sides and the suffocating awkwardness, Alex had simply excused himself and wandered over to his desk to kill time until the teacher, who was currently very late, arrived.

He did his best to not dwell on it, but it was difficult not to feel resentful as he watched Tom and the two boys chat animatedly. If things had been different, he would be there as well, chatting about whatever, not a care in the world. Last year, he _had_ been like that. But somewhere between then and now he had turned into an outsider; someone who stayed on the sidelines and simply watched others socialize, not because he wanted to, but because no one aside from Tom was willing to talk to him.

There were some positive points about that though. For instance, he didn't have to think of any cover stories for his absences other than the overused 'I've been ill'. His classmates were more than happy to construct their own theories about him, and none were in the very least flattering. It had offended him quite a bit when it first began, and it still hurt now, though he was now a bit accustomed to it.

It simply wasn't fair though. He could just never get a break, not at school, not in the real world, nowhere. But, then again, life was never fair. That was one lesson his uncle had made sure he had learned by heart. Working with MI6 had only driven that lesson deeper home. Actually, just surviving to this point had made it impossible to forget that the world was one messed up place. Sometimes it made him wonder why he even bothered with saving it.

Alex blew at stray lock of hair that was obscuring his vision. He idly noted that he would have to get his hair cut soon; it was getting too lengthy and would soon be falling into his eyes all the time, something that would not be a good idea when he went on his next mission.

He frowned suddenly. Why had he had thought 'when' and not 'if'? Why was he thinking about new missions? For that matter, why had he even briefly contemplated the idea of going on another mission? There was absolutely no way that he would ever do anything for Blunt again. All of that spying business was far behind him now. Very, very far behind.

Besides, he had just taken a bullet to the heart. Surely that granted him a few years, if not an entire lifetimes, worth of rest? Didn't spies, even averse ones, get sick leave or anything? He had a sudden mental image of a secret agent, whose appearance was oddly similar to that of James Bond, attempt to take on a bad guy while sporting a pink nose that dripped and a voice that sound as though a whole pack of frog had taken residence in his throat. Alex couldn't suppress a smile as mental Bond sneezed right in mental bad guy's face, much to the disgust of the said bad guy. Now, that was a true hero: saving the world with a bad cold as backup.

If only spying was like in the movies, where the bad guy always got caught and the hero always got the beautiful lady and a happy ending. But in reality, the bad guys didn't always end up behind bars, and the closest thing to a beautiful lady that he'd ever had was Sabrina, and even she was gone now. And, he thought looking around the classroom, acutely aware that many people quickly turned away before their eyes met, he sure did not have a happy ending. Not even close.

He yawned tiredly and wished that he'd taken the time to grab some coffee before heading out. The teacher was so late that it wouldn't have mattered if he'd taken a few extra minutes to finish his pancakes as well. He closed his eyes, resting his head on his arms, fully intending to take a quick nap and not think about _anything_ until the teacher decided to grace them with her presence. It wasn't like he had anything better to do at the moment after all.

"Hey, Alex!" The sudden call jolted Alex unwillingly out of his thoughts. He opened one eye as he turned his head slightly to the left to see Tom heading back to him, now hauling a newspaper. "Have you seen the news? He's struck again!"

_So that's what they were talking about,_ he thought sitting up and yawning again. There was no need for Alex to ask who 'He' was. Even Alex, being so out of loop with the latest gossip due to his long absences, was aware of the individual who seemed to be on every school child's lips since his appearance some four months ago.

Though, personally, Alex did not see what was so appealing about a thief. They broke the law and selfishly stole priceless artifacts for their own greed. What was to admire about such people? However, very few of his classmates seemed to share his opinion, judging by how often his latest heist was brought up in conversations. Apparently, the fact that no one had seen his face, knew his name, or even how he managed to elude the police every single time, without any casualties, made him some big hero to a majority of the school. This blind admiration was just one more thing that separated Alex from his peers; he didn't trust or admire anyone that he personally did not know and deem as worthy of respect.

"They've even got a picture of him this time" Tom continued, plopping down in the empty seat next to Alex. "It's a bit blurry, but still, we know what he looks like now! And, they've given him a name as well: the Phantom!"

"Nice name." Alex said, unimpressed. What sort of corny name was that; did the guy think he was the Phantom of the Opera or something?

Tom took a swipe at Alex's head with the newspaper only to miss as his friend ducked at the last second.

"That's not his real name." the boy shot back, a bit put out by his friend's reaction. After all, it wasn't everyday when a picture of _the_ thief appeared in the news. Surely that deserved some sort of reaction? Then again, this was Alex he was talking about. "That's just the name they've dubbed them with."

Alex raised an eyebrow inquiringly. "'They'?"

Tom rolled his eyes. "You know, reporters, cops, society, _they._"

"Ah, those 'they'."

Tom took another swipe at Alex. This time, not only did he miss, but his paper was confiscated as well. Alex was getting a bit tired of having to dodge it every five minutes. Tom wasn't too mournful about the loss though; at least Alex would look at the picture now. Plus, the paper was now his friend's responsibility to get rid of before the teacher showed up.

Alex unfolded the paper and glanced at the first page, not intended to look longer than a few seconds. He had little interest in the thief, but Tom would likely not stop bugging him until he looked at the article. It was then that Alex saw the picture of the thief, or more specifically, the thief's eyes. He immediately tensed, his gaze drawn to it. He recognized those eyes; he had seen them countless times since he was 'recruited'. Those were a killer's eyes. One's with no remorse, no compassion, _nothing _that defined the owner as human_. _Just small ink orbs of vast emptiness. 

"Alex?"

It wasn't that surprising that he noticed the eyes immediately since the long awaited picture seemed to consist mainly of a close up the thief's covered face, the only bare skin revealed was around the eyes. But even in black and white, it was that feature that jumped out at him. An involuntary shiver crept down his spine.

"Hey, did you fall asleep?"

There was no way that this man had not killed anyone on any of his heists. Alex was willing to bet that the papers were not printing the whole truth. They probably didn't even know the whole truth, it would be just like Blunt to keep something like murder hidden from the public. Alex did not bother to delude himself into thinking that something like this was kept under wraps due to concern for the public; they likely did not want the public to begin criticizing the government for not apprehending the thief sooner.

He only faintly noticed that Tom had given up trying to talk to him and was now riffling through his bag. He was too caught up with analyzing the picture in front of him.

Keeping information from the public was not the best plan, In Alex's opinion. Once the public found out the details that were initially kept from them, the government would not be spared. They should just devote more effort into finding the thief's identity in the first place. It shouldn't be that hard since they now had a picture, albeit a fuzzy one. Maybe there were less blurry ones in different magazines, he'd have to some research and then…

Alex abruptly stopped that train of thought and shook his head in an effort to clear it. _No,_ he told himself,_ it's not like it my problem. Let the adults do some work for once. _

He placed the newspaper on top his desk and ignored it. He really needed to stop thinking like a spy. The missions he was usually sent on involved saving the world from some egotistical, delusional freak. According to the papers, the only thing this thief seemed to be interested in was priceless artifacts. There was no way that Blunt was going to shove this whole mess on him and expect him to fix it, Alex decided as the teacher rushed into the room twenty minutes late and hastily started to begin the day's lesson.

Absolutely no way.

*~~ͽͼ~~*

"Sir, are you sure you shouldn't inform Alex about this?" Mrs. Jones asked, sucking nervously on a peppermint. "He probably should be notified if—"

"No." was the blunt reply. "It is best that he is not informed. Alex is sure to resent this."

_And of course, the best way to get around that is to not ask him,_ Mrs. Jones could not help thinking. It really amazed her sometimes, just how insensitive her boss could be. Even when he was trying to help, he did it in such a cold, aphetic manner, that one could not help taking offense.

And Alex was sure to take much offense at Blunt's current solution of their predicament. Mrs. Jones knew that she would if she was in his shoes. She personally had no doubt that Alex Rider was innocent of any wrong doing. Despite the fact that they had never had any heart-to-heart talks, she knew him enough to be certain that Alex would never do half the things the thief had done.

Something about that thought brushed the back corners of her memories. She was getting the feeling that she was missing something, but for the life of her, she couldn't remember what. And not knowing all the details was a dangerous thing in her line of business, which was why she was so adamant that Alex be told that there was a thief with the same facial features as his running around.

"Sir," she started again only to be caught off.

"Mrs. Jones, if you do not cease this senseless badgering," Blunt said, his voice cold enough to freeze a dessert. "You will be removed from your position and assigned elsewhere until this is over."

A fancy way of saying that she would be demoted. Needless to say, Mrs. Jones shut her mouth.

"This is the best course of action," Blunt continued, closing the folder he had been reading. "We have no way of knowing if Alex Rider is not our burglar nor do we really now if he is truly innocent of any wrong doing. He could be a double agent for all we know. He certainly has no love for his job."

Mrs. Jones could not help but feel surprised at the fact that Blunt was admitting that Alex hated him. She wasn't even sure most of the time Blunt was aware of how Alex felt about him. He certainly didn't act as though he knew. Or, more likely, he didn't care.

"And until we know for sure, he shall be treated accordingly." He concluded, effectively ending the conversation when he picked up the phone and began dialing the number to send his plan into motion.

Mrs. Jones swallowed the rest of her peppermint. Well, at the very least, Blunt hadn't decided to simply throw Alex straight into jail.

*~~ͽͼ~~*

Being part of the SAS meant being trained to do things that most people could only dream of doing. They could scale a wall just as quickly as a monkey, stalk through the wilderness with the stealth of a fox, and maneuver underwater just as easily as any fish.

K-unit could do all that and had done so on many an occasion.

But there was one thing that they had not yet been assigned to do as the job was usually reserved for higher ranked agents. They were to be sent on an intelligence and protection mission. That part wasn't as unusual for they had been sent on such missions in the past. It was that fact that they were being assigned to the middle of London that startled them. Usually their intelligence missions took place in areas far from society, nearly always out of the country as well. For some reason they had yet to discover, out of all the more qualified units, they had been deemed the most fit for this particular job.

Yes, being part of the Special Forces was a hard life, but an exciting one as well. One could never say that it got boring. Hopefully, each member of the K-unit would remember that once they became aware of the finer details of their latest assignment.

*~~ͽͼ~~*

Alex scowled heavily as he walked out of homeroom a good ten minutes after everyone else. The teacher could be late all she wanted, and no one said anything. But if he was just a little too caught up in his thoughts and had a newspaper on his desk when she decided to finally start teaching, he was landed in detention. He had half a mind to notify the dean of Miss Bernie's continuous tardiness but dismissed the idea as it would gather too much unwanted negative attention to himself.

He sighed as he paused in front of the Maths door. Class had started five minutes ago, meaning one more detention to add to his growing list. Just what he wanted. He continuously risked his life to save the world just to attend detentions. It was what every sane person in the world did, of course.

_At least the day can't get any worse,_ he thought before realizing that he had just jinxed himself. Alex sighed.

_Just great._

*~~ͽͼ~~*


	4. Legal Deceptions

_Disclaimer: If I say, 'I do believe I own Alex Rider, I do, I do!" a thousand times, will that make it true? *sigh* Yeah, didn't think so. _

Chapter 4: Legal Deceptions

There were very few things that made Jack mad; she was generally a very easygoing person by nature. True, many things made her angry, such as being lied to, being called a spaz, and wasting perfectly good food. Only a select number of things, however, ever managed to incur her complete and utter wrath. Alex being forced to do an adult's job was one. Being pushed into a corner with no way out was another. And now she had one more to add to the growing list.

To her credit though, she did not lose her temper right there and then. She did not yell at the monotone voice drilling into her eardrums over the phone. Nor did she curse at him using her very profound vocabulary like she so desperately wished to. No, she very calmly took the phone away from her ear and hung up.

Then she, still calmly, walked over to the pale green sofa, picked up a soft, worn out cushion, and screamed with all her might into it. Once she got that out of her system, she collapsed onto the sofa, and hugged the cushion to her chest as she completed her options. Unfortunately, any options that she did have were very few in number, and any new ones that she could come up with were quite farfetched.

Great, just great, she grumbled mentally. As if trying to raise a teenage spy wasn't bad enough. As if just barely managing to pay the bills each month wasn't enough. As if keeping their financial issues hidden from Alex wasn't enough. No, someone up there had decided that Jack was having it too easy. They just _had_ to throw one more thorn into the already too spiky rosebush.

Jack sighed and closed her eyes. She took a deep breath, counted to ten in Japanese just for the heck of it, and then stood up, her eyes brimming with renewed determination.

She was _not _going to sit around and mope, no way. She was going to get up and fix this before Alex got home. She didn't care how many people she had to threaten; she would make them change their minds and give Alex his allowance back. She had half a mind to head down to the Bank right now, order them to let her see Blunt, and then proceed with chewing his mind into very, very small pieces and feeding them to the neighbor's dog. The only thing stopping her from actually going through with the plan though was the fact that she would surely be evicted from the country. Normally she wouldn't care a whit about that fact, but if she left, then there was nothing to keep the Bank from sending Alex on one mission after another. She couldn't risk it.

She started pacing as she went over her options once again. She could try and contact the government and appeal to them. But if MI6 really was behind this, and there was no doubt in her mind that suggested otherwise, then it would just be a waste of time that she really didn't have.

And she couldn't for the life of her imagine why they would stop their only source of income. Maybe it was for another mission? But it wasn't as though they had actually paid Alex for any of his past missions, so the prospect of money would not be sending Alex into their waiting clutches anytime soon.

She unconsciously tugged at a strand of her red hair, frowning. Well, there was always the option of waiting the sixty days for the paperwork to be cleared. A frown appeared on her face as she recalled the bored, uncaring voice that had broken the bad news to her ten minutes ago. No, that would be admitting defeat and Jack never admitted defeat. Never. The word simply wasn't in her vocabulary.

Reaching a decision, she marched purposely up the stairs to the computer in Alex's room. She was going to find a way to get out of this, even if she had to read every single article about the government on the net. And she was going to do it before Alex got home from school.

*~~ͽͼ~~*

Wolf scowled heavily at the pastel yellow envelope on his coffee table. Perhaps if he stared at it long enough, its contents would somehow appear in his mind and he wouldn't have to wait for the rest of his team to show up in order to find out the details of their next mission. All he knew was that they would be tracking some kid. All of the details were in that putrid yellow flimsy paper that he was not allowed to open until the rest of his team arrived.

Wolf abruptly broke the one way staring contest to glance at the clock. They were two minutes late. Tardiness costs lives. He'd have to put more emphasis on punctuality; he couldn't have his team arrive too late at a very crucial moment. He wouldn't be much of a leader if he did that.

Two knocks followed by a faint _thud_ at the door interrupted his thoughts before they grew anymore morbid. He stood up with a grimace, stubbornly ignoring the sharp pain in his right leg. The last mission had left him with a badly bruised, though not broken leg, much to his extreme aggravation. It would be healed in a few days, but it hurt something awful in the meantime. Not that Wolf would willingly admit it.

"You're late." He said in form of welcome as he opened his door to reveal the three tardy members of his team.

"No we're not." Eagle protested, striding into the room as though it was his own. "We're five minutes early."

"You can't be late until you arrive," Fox said walking in closely followed by Snake who nodded once in acknowledgment to Wolf.

"You're here now." Wolf replied, walking back to his sofa, taking care not to limp. "And you're late. Explain."

Fox and Snake simultaneously turned towards Eagle. "He was driving."

Eagle frowned at how quickly he had been sold out. "But we aren't even late." He protested once again. "When I checked my watch ten minutes ago, we still had five minutes to get here."

Wolf didn't answer; he just subjected Eagle to his best Leader Stare. The poor K-unit member held out for ten seconds before cracking.

"Alright, an old lady stole my parking spot. I swear, they're the real threat in this nation."

Wolf sighed and resolved to lecture them on the importance of promptness later. Right now he just wanted to get this meeting over with and drink some coffee. Maybe relax with a good war documentary. Anything but listen to lame excuses.

"Is this it?" Snake asked, indicating the envelope on the table.

Wolf nodded as he picked it up and finally tore it open.

"Our lives for the next several months are to be decided by that?" Fox said, eyeing the yellow color with distaste. "How anticlimactic."

"Did they really just hand it to you and then kick you out?" Eagle asked, curiosity getting the better of his good sense.

To everyone's surprise, Wolf did not react as expected by the comment. He actually answered without any sort of sarcastic remark. "Yes. Something big is going on."

"Something's always going on," Snake replied, watching the envelope in Wolf's hands with narrowed eyes. "That's why it's MI6 and not a soap drama.'"

"It took them ten minutes to find the right folder and give it to me," Wolf continued as though he had not heard the oh-so-helpful commentary or Eagle's muffled snickers. "And the only briefing I received was to never lose sight of the subject. The whole mission depends on us watching his every move."

No one spoke after that revelation; Wolf swiftly pulled out all of the papers and moved to spread them over the table. Unfortunately, he had to lean forward a bit to do so, and in the process, accidently knocked a leg against the edge of the table. It was just his luck that the leg he bumped was his injured one. The papers slipped from his slack grip as he struggled to keep the pain from showing on his face.

"You okay?" Snake asked having not missed anything.

"Fine." Wolf grunted, annoyed at having lost control, if even for a brief second. Then he heard Fox's sharp intake of breath and Eagle's whispered oath. He looked down sharply and his own eyes widened in surprise.

The four members of K-unit stared rather stunned at the papers scattered on top of Wolf's dining table. Or, more specifically, they stared at the photo of their target, which lay at the very top of the small pile. They had been expecting to see some posh rich kid, or some angst-ridden, world hating teen. They were not expecting to see a slim, athletic looking blond fourteen year old. And they certainly were not expecting it to be a kid they knew.

Snake was the first to break the silence.

"Cub?" he asked, disbelief evident in his voice. "Am I going crazy, or is that _Cub_?"

"It's him." Fox confirmed, picking up the snap shot for a closer look. "Not unless I'm mental as well. Never thought we'd see him again."

"Aw," Eagle said, snatching the picture from Fox. "Cub's all grown up and a terrorist!"

"He's not a terrorist." Snake said, wearily, holding out a hand. Eagle sheepishly handed over the snapshot. "He's…well, I have no idea what he is."

"He's our mission for the time being," Wolf said, taking the picture that Snake offered him. His eye twitched involuntarily as his gaze fell on the boy that his unit had been forced to train with a while back. "Protect if innocent, apprehend if not."

"Innocent of what?" Eagle asked, leaning back in his chair. "Protect from who? Why all the missing blanks?"

"Classified," Snake said exasperated, holding up a paper so that the words 'CLASSIFIED' that was stamped in dark red across it was clearly visible. "They aren't telling us a thing."

"Not that surprising since it is Cub." Fox said, shifting through the other papers littering the table. "The kid's got more mysteries surrounding him than a dog's got fleas."

Wolf gave him an exasperated look. "Nice analogy."

"I try." Fox said stretching his arms as grin like his namesake spread across his face. "Would have been an English major if the army hadn't called my name."

"You heard the voice too?" Eagle asked, in a falsely astonished voice. "I knew those posters were expelling subliminal messages!"

Fortunately for Wolf, he was spared from having to answer that by the doorbell. Normally he would have ignored any unannounced visitors that he received, but he really wouldn't mind a chance to regroup away from the others. Plus, whoever was at the door had yet to stop ringing. He stood up, ignoring the pain, and resolved to chew out whoever was at the door. His doorbell was _not_ a toy.

He walked, not limped, to the door, and wrenched it open, ready to relieve some of the tension that had sprung up once he saw just who they had to follow around for the next month. Unfortunately, the person at the door was the landlord's black-clad, sullen-eyed, gum-chewing sixteen year old niece. Wolf hated gum and teens of all ages. The niece hated adults and authority of any sort. Needless to say, they did not get along well.

"What?" he snapped with a glare that could, and had on many an occasion, scare a grown man.

The girl just blew a big purple bubble, popped it in the most disturbingly loud manner possible, and shoved a white envelope in Wolf's face. Without another world, she turned around and stomped to the next door and started pounding on the doorbell there. Wolf sent her one last glare before shutting the door. He really disliked kids.

"The rest of these outline the assignment," Snake said absently as Wolf walked back into the room. "But nothing too interesting about Cub aside from the usual basics: name, address, school."

"What's that?" Fox asked, noticing the letter in Wolf's hand.

Wolf didn't bother to answer since he hadn't even opened the letter yet. So Eagle, being a good friend, decided to help his pal out. In one swift move, he snatched the letter out of Wolf's hands and scanned it, ignoring Wolf's irritated exclamation.

"According to this," He said, dancing out of Wolf's reach. "Wolfy here has…lice."

All of the occupants in the room stared at him in disbelief.

"…what?" Snake finally asked. He eyed Wolf's extremely short black hair warily. "You have lice?"

"No, can't you read?" Wolf barked, kicking Eagle hard in the shin with his left leg and taking back the letter as the man doubled over in pain. "I just have termites."

"Termites?" Fox asked, his lips twitching. "I didn't know you were made of wood."

"Though your heart certainly is," Eagle grumbled, rubbing his leg.

"What heart?" Snake put in, amused.

"The _building_ has termites." Wolf snapped, hitting Eagle's head with the letter. "I've got to get out of here in two days."

"Tough luck," Snake said, yawning. He froze in mid-yawn when he caught the look in Wolf's eye and added hurriedly. "Sorry, I live in a one bedroom apartment. No room."

"Renting a tiny room." Fox put in as Wolf scowled as Snake. "Already on the verge of being kicked out, sorry, can't risk it."

He attempted to offer an apologetic grin but it was swiftly extinguished by the glare Wolf sent his way. He didn't really blame their leader though, he was sure he wouldn't be happy if he had nowhere to stay and all his teammates had to offer were bad excuses.

Though he really couldn't blame them either. None of them, for very good reasons, wanted to put up with Wolf any more than necessary right now. Not that he was difficult to get along with; it was more of the fact that he clearly did not like this mission and was not going to get through it with a good attitude that put everyone off. If nothing else, they could just blame the termites, those bloody tree killing bugs.

"Aren't you going to ask me?" Eagle asked, a false look of hurt on his features. He was renting a room in a house that was also occupied with two six year old demons. There was no way Wolf would want to stay with him and that was precisely why he was asking.

Wolf gave him a dark look and didn't bother to answer

"I think Wolf values whatever sanity he has left." Snake replied, looking amused.

Wolf glared at his teammates, who ignored him in turn by focusing all their attention on the papers outlining their assignment. Wonderful, not only did he have to follow around Double O Nothing, but he also had no place to stay while doing so. He hadn't even met the kid and already, trouble was brewing. He knew he hated that kid.

"Uh, Wolf? You better take a look at this." Fox said, offering him a paper.

Wolf took it, noting the amused glint in his teammate's eye warily. He scanned the paper and nearly crushed it as his mind processed the information it presented to him.

Scratch that. He _loathed_ that kid. Utterly and completely loathed him.

*~~ͽͼ~~*


End file.
